


Como Agua Para Chocolate

by okaystop, SelfRescuingPrincess



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Baking, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Praise, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess
Summary: You wouldn’t suspect it, but Jon loves to bake.





	Como Agua Para Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> We ask that you please be cool and respect the fourth wall.

You wouldn’t suspect it, but Jon loves to bake. His mom taught him when he was a kid. Whenever he felt sad, or sick, or frustrated, she would say, “Well, this calls for snickerdoodles!” And then he would help measure out the ingredients, sift the flour, cut out the shapes. It always felt so satisfying to bake something from scratch, especially with his mom. And without fail, when his mom made him a treat, he always felt better. 

When he was in elementary school and his Cub Scout den had a bake sale, he sold the most lemon bars. In middle school, he got Transformer cookie cutters in his Christmas stocking. When he was in high school, his mom got him a Kitchen-Aid electric mixer and a set of mixing bowls for his Confirmation. When he graduated from college, she gave him her box of recipes, each note card hand-written and smudged from years of use. For his whole life, he's always associated baking with caring. 

++++

Helpful Peanut Butter Cookies 

One day, when Jon is frustrated that the Democrats in the House seem like they are dragging their feet, and the White House has shifted its foreign policy to committing crimes right out on the Ellipse, he thinks, _I have to get off Twitter. I need a break._ He wanders around the house feeling a little lost when suddenly he is struck with the idea to make cookies. He hasn’t baked anything in years, but he's certain he'll feel better if he does this. And he'll feel productive and stay off his phone. A win-win. 

He pulls out the box of his recipe cards from his mother from the back of the pantry, dusts it off, and flips through until he finds something he has all the ingredients for. He makes the cookies. They're the peanut butter kind where you make a crosshatch mark with a fork on top, and he’s pretty proud of himself. He feels accomplished, even if it is something as simple and basic as a peanut butter cookie. He decides to rename them “hashtag cookies” since they helped him stay off Twitter for an entire afternoon.

He brings them into the office the next day and everyone demolishes the plate of cookies in minutes. If they were vultures, the plate would be the picked-clean carcass. Priyanka groans at the name “hashtag cookies” and Jon counters with “pumptober” so they call it a draw. The rest of the afternoon is oddly productive. They get a ton of planning done for their upcoming tour, Lovett and Travis hammer out Lovett Or Leave It’s audience participation game, Tommy reads two chapters in his book, and Jon sets up three interviews. 

Tommy texts Jon later that evening.

Tommy (9:24): _what did you put in those cookies?_

Jon laughs at the message.

Me (9:25): _why?_

Tommy (9:29): _cleaned my *whole* house_

Tommy (9:30): _scrubbed kitchen!_

Tommy (9:31): _laundry!_

Tommy (9:32): _even grout in shower???_

Tommy (9:34): _never felt so motivated. would’ve been helpful in WH_

Me (9:38): _u needed something homemade_

Me (9:38): _something w/ protein_ 😉

Tommy (9:40): _didn’t know u could bake!_

Tommy (9:40): _u should do it again_

Tommy (9:41): _we can eat it off my sparkling fucking floor_

Jon can hear the smile behind Tommy’s messages and feels it in his belly, in an unexpected stutter of his heart.

++++

Hopeful Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

So Jon does. He bakes oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, thinking the whole time how good it felt to have Tommy compliment him like that. And how much he wants to make the best, chewiest, most delicious cookies for Tommy. Sure, he wants everyone to enjoy them, but for some reason Jon wants to do this especially for him. He creams together the butter and sugar thinking about the smile Tommy might give him when he eats one. He folds in the oats and the chocolate chips, hoping they make Tommy's day a little bit better.

They have a live show that night, and Jon knows Tommy always gets a little nervous beforehand. Jon asked him about it once because unlike Jon, Tommy was on TV all the time back in the White House, and Tommy had said yeah, but there wasn't 2,000 people right there in front of him when he did it.

As usual, Tommy doesn't really want to eat dinner, on account of his nerves, so Jon hands him the Tupperware container of oatmeal cookies he made. "Here. You need to keep your blood sugar up."

"Fine, you're right." Resigned, Tommy takes a bite. "Oh, shit these are chocolate chip? I was expecting raisins, but this is so much better!" He gives Jon his biggest, brightest smile. "This is exactly what I needed, dude, thanks."

Tommy is reviewing his notes on polling numbers, when he says, "Wait a second - am I crazy or are these numbers better than we remembered? Look at these favorable/unfavorables, Jon. We can really use this to further the Democrats' economics message. I feel so much better about this than when I first looked at them." 

"See? Your brain must have needed those extra carbohydrates," Jon says.

Lovett grabs the box of cookies, "I want brain carbohydrates too." He takes one and tosses another to Dan. The energy is good in the green room - everyone in a good mood, upbeat, loose, and ready for anything.

It's almost show time. Jon looks over at Tommy who's sitting there with a dopey grin on his face. Jon knocks his shoulder into Tommy’s. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, I think we're gonna have a great show tonight. I just want it to be really good, you know?"

Jon smiles, sets a hand down against Tommy's shoulder. "Hey, you're always really great out there. I know sometimes you're nervous about it but you're seriously always great. I know I can lean on you." They start walking to the stage wings, their theme music playing to an excited crowd.

Tommy beams at Jon. "If I'm great, it’s only because you're in charge out there, leading the way. Makes it easy for the rest of us."

Jon blushes. "I mean, I can't do any of it without you. Or, you know, you and Lovett and Dan."

"I'm just trying to do you proud, buddy." Tommy winks at him right before he walks out on stage.

Jon watches him walk away for a moment before taking a step forward himself. _Proud of Tommy._ Yeah, that's a good way to put it. Proud of Tommy and of Lovett and Dan and all of them. But he knows he wouldn't want to be doing this if Tommy wasn't at his side doing it too. He'd always known that, but right now it feels so much more significant.

++++

Disappointment Brownies 

It’s a Friday afternoon, and Lovett has already left to take a power/panic nap before his show. Jon doesn’t have anything going on so he leans over so he can see Tommy around his monitor. “Hey Tom, you doing anything later tonight? Want to come over and watch baseball?”

“Oh dude, sorry I can’t, I have a date.” Tommy is packing up his messenger bag.

_Tommy has a date?_ “You do?”

“Yeah, just this guy I matched with on Tinder. We’re going to some art show? I don’t know. I’ll come over tomorrow to tell you how it goes.” 

_Cool cool cool._ “Oh, yeah man, cool. Um. Have a good time.” 

“Thanks buddy. See you tomorrow.” And with that Jon is the only one left in the founders' office.

Jon goes home inexplicably irritable. Tommy has been on dates before, but for some reason, Jon is super bummed about this one. He thought maybe they might hang out, drink some beers, watch the playoffs. But, hey, Jon is a strong, independent man, he can drink beer and watch the playoffs all on his own. 

He is moping around his kitchen when he decides he definitely needs brownies. 

Brownies will aid and abet his overdramatic response to Tommy’s date. Jon pulls out the baker's chocolate, flour, eggs, butter, and since when did Tommy date guys anyway? He starts melting the butter and chocolate together. Why didn’t he tell Jon before? Did he not trust Jon? Would he have told Jon about his date if Jon hadn’d asked Tommy over this evening?

Everything about this evening has been one giant let down. At least he can eat his feelings in chocolate form.

Tommy comes over the next afternoon. They are hanging out by the pool and Jon brings out a couple of beers and a plate of the leftover brownies. He decided to be a little fancy and dusted them with powdered sugar.

“Oh, sweet, dude, you made brownies? Gimme one.” Tommy smiles up at Jon from his lounge chair and makes a grabby hand at the plate. Jon gives him a corner piece because he knows it’s Tommy’s favorite. He sets down the plate on the table between their chairs.

Jon laughs, “Yeah, man, what else was I gonna do, all by my lonesome on a Friday night?” That may have come out a little more bitter than Jon intended.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blow you off, it’s just I had-”

“No, Tom, seriously, don’t worry about it, I’m just kidding.” _Mostly kidding._ “How, uh, how was the date?”

Tommy takes a bite of his brownie. “It was fine. He’s a corporate attorney, so mostly all he does is work, so we kind of traded war stories about that. These brownies are awesome.” Tommy pops the last bite into his mouth. “We went to this art exhibit curated by a friend of his, but I didn’t really understand any of it. I seriously don’t get modern art.”

“Yeah, me either. Like, how do you just paint some lines and call it a day?”

“Right? The art didn't look like anything! It was just a bunch of colors smudged together into lopsided shapes.” Tommy grabs another brownie. “Anyway, he was nice and all, but I don’t think we really clicked. It just, I don’t know, I kind of felt dumb with the art, and then, you know. Whatever.” Tommy shrugs and licks the sugar off his fingers.

“Sorry, dude. It sounds like it was kind of lame. You need someone who isn't all stuffy and business-y." Jon is trying not to be critical or judgmental but it’s clear Tommy’s sad about this. And Tommy should never feel dumb about anything; he’s one of the smartest people Jon knows.

They sit in bummed-out silence for a beat.

"Hey, so not to be that guy, but I didn’t know you were dating guys." Jon says quietly.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I mean I wasn’t really but now I’m not in the White House and it’s easier? I dated a guy in college for about five minutes, but it wasn't really a thing."

“Sure, yeah, of course.” Jon tries to be Not Weird and Totally Normal.

“Sorry man, I didn’t think I needed to be explicit about it, you know? I thought I could just be casual about telling you, like it was no big deal, but I should have told you before."

"Hey, no, it’s all good, I was just surprised."

"Why? I mean, it’s not like you’re into guys, right?"

Jon looks at the beer in his hand and takes too long to answer.

"Wait. _Are_ you into guys?" Tommy gently prods.

"Honestly, I don’t know? Maybe?"

Tommy looks confused, “How do you not know?”

Jon tries to say it in a way that sounds coherent. “I just mean, there's a guy, one guy, really, who I might be into. Who I - yeah. Maybe.” 

“Oh.”

Jon tries again, “It’s complicated. I don’t really know how to articulate what I'm feeling.”

“I thought you were some kind of speechwriter or something,” Tommy teases and throws his crumpled-up napkin at Jon’s face.

Jon gives him a lopsided half-grin back. “Yeah, I just. It's weird how the words don’t seem right no matter how I try to arrange them. It’s frustrating.” Words are his _thing_. How is it that when it matters the most, he can’t figure out what the words should be? 

Tommy is as reassuring and steadfast as ever. “Well that’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it, but - you know, I'm here for you when you want to.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks, Tom.” Seriously, how does _Tommy_ know the right thing to say? Jon sits in his deck chair in tries to will his heart to slow down.

++++

Comfort Cinnamon Swirl Bread

A few weeks later, Tommy texts Jon that he doesn't feel well, and he's going to work from home. Tommy never calls out from work, so he must feel truly terrible. Jon isn't sure if cookies are the best thing for Tommy, when he's sick, so he decides to leave work at lunch to bake him some bread. He finds a recipe and bakes a loaf that comes out smelling delectable. He delivers it to Tommy himself, letting himself into Tommy's house with his spare key. He calls out, "Hey, Tom, it’s just me. You all right?" 

Tommy makes his way into the kitchen, wrapped in a quilt looking very pale and half asleep. "Jon? What are you doing here?"

Suddenly it seems like the bread might be too much. "Um, I was worried about you? You're never sick, so, I don't know, I just wanted you to feel better so I uh, made you this." He holds up the loaf for Tommy to see. 

"You made me bread?" Tommy sounds a little out of it, like Jon does when he’s on NyQuil or Benadryl or the benzos he takes before a flight.

"Yeah" Jon mumbles. "It's cinnamon swirl. I had a recipe," he says, trying to minimize the effort. He just wanted to help. He hates seeing Tommy sad or upset or sick. When he got Tommy’s text message he felt an overwhelming need to make everything better, and it's not much, but this is his best solution.

Tommy's brow furrows a little like he's trying to work out why Jon's brought him freshly baked bread. "Oh, cool. Thanks. Uh - I don't want you to get sick too or anything, man."

Jon shakes his head. "Don't worry about me. Here this is still warm. Can I butter it up for you?" 

Tommy nods and sinks onto the couch. "Yeah okay."

Tommy curls up on the couch with his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, his head resting on the couch arm. Jon cuts a couple of thick slices and butters them, putting them on a small plate. He also pours Tommy a glass of orange juice, because Vitamin C is a thing, right? He brings the snack out to the living room and Jon is struck by how miserable Tommy looks. He actually looks small, like a little kid, which Jon did not think was possible. His hair is a little curly and mussed, and Jon has an overwhelming urge to brush his hair back and kiss his forehead. But that seems....weird. It's weird, but it doesn't make him want to do it any less. He places the plate and glass on the coffee table and sits next to Tommy on the couch. He gives Tommy's shoulder a little shake. "Hey Tom?" he says softly. "You want something to eat?"

Tommy blinks at him and gives him a small smile. "Yeah, thanks."

Jon smiles back and, on impulse, wraps an arm around Tommy's shoulder, tugging him against his side. "Have you done anything today besides sleep?" 

Tommy shakes his head and reaches across Jon's thighs for the orange juice. "You didn’t have to do any of this for me."

"I know. I wanted to."

Tommy takes a bite. "Oh, dude, this bread is amazing." He sinks a little further into Jon's side. 

Has Tommy always been this comfortable? Jon doesn't really care, it just feels nice to be here, his arm around Tommy and Tommy’s head on his shoulder. They have been friends forever, but they've never really been overtly affectionate. Jon thinks this should feel more awkward, but Tommy is sick and needs him and right now he couldn't care less what is "normal" or not. Though he probably shouldn't run his fingers through Tommy’s hair like he wants to. That might be a step too far. So, for now he feeds Tommy cinnamon bread and feels content curled up against his best friend.

As they sit there, Jon finds himself completely relaxing with Tommy pressed against him like this. He feels really good that Tommy likes the bread and is here with him. "I'm glad you like the bread," he says, quietly, turning his face to press his cheek against the side of Tommy's head.

Jon is absentmindedly running his fingertips up and down Tommy's arm, and it's just.... really nice. Tommy smiles into Jon's chest and sighs contentedly. "I don't know what you put in that bread, but I think it actually helped? I really do feel better." Tommy breathes in against Jon. "You take such good care of me."

"I like taking care of you, Tommy," Jon says. He closes his eyes and breathes out. "And it's just bread. I didn't put anything special in it."

Jon's cheek is still pressed against Tommy's head, and Tommy's face is still on Jon's chest, and Jon's arm is still around Tommy's shoulders, and suddenly Jon is Very Aware of how they are touching everywhere. He feels his heart rate pick up a little. They have hung out a thousand times, but never like this. And this is _perfect._ Why is this different all of a sudden? The afternoon has slid into evening and Jon realizes he doesn't want to leave. Like maybe he doesn't want to ever leave. Like maybe it would be nice if he, you know, stayed. Here. With Tommy.

Jon tilts his face forward so it’s more like his lips are pressed against Tommy's head instead of his cheek. It's not a kiss. It’s not. At least, not specifically. He breathes in the smell of Tommy's shampoo. Tommy's hair is really soft. How has he never known how soft Tommy's hair was before? It feels like something he should have known. He wants to know these things: how smooth Tommy's skin feels, what it's like to have Tommy's calloused fingers press on his back, the warmth of Tommy's breath against his ear. They feel like important pieces of information to have.

"Jon?" Tommy whispers, coughing a little bit.

"Yeah?" He responds, the words muffled against his temple. 

"Is this a fever dream?"

Jon laughs, his whole body shaking against Tommy's. "No, I'm here. This isn’t a dream."

Tommy nods. "Mmm okay, good. I like this." His voice trails off a little as he falls asleep.

Jon smiles into Tommy's hair and holds him. Jon dozes off a little too, he's so content. 

They wake up a few hours later. It's dark out, and somehow they have slid down so they are more lying down than sitting up, Tommy on top of Jon, Jon still wrapped around Tommy. Tommy pushes himself up off the couch, stretches a little and cracks his neck. "C'mon, let's go to bed. I'm sleepy. Are you sleepy? Yeah, me too." 

He wanders off in the direction of his bedroom. Did Tommy just invite him to sleep over? That's sure what it sounded like. Jon is still sitting on the couch, trying to figure out what is happening, when he hears from down the hall, "Joooooooon. C'mooooooon. It's bedtime."

Jon is a little tentative when he steps in the bedroom. Tommy is already under the covers, his face smushed in the pillow. He knows Tommy is sick and might not realize what he's saying but also Jon really, really wants to stay. Jon looks down at Tommy’s sleepy face and thinks _why not._ He toes off his shoes, takes off his jeans, and climbs into bed behind Tommy. "I'm here," he says.

Tommy hums into the pillow then turns his head so he's facing Jon. "I like it when you're here. I like this. Is that okay?"

They are laying very close together, as close as Jon might be with someone he regularly shared a bed with. He nods. "Yeah, I like this too, so much."

Jon reaches out and brushes the hair from Tommy's forehead, just like he wanted to earlier. He lets his fingers trail down the side of Tommy's face, over his cheekbones, and along his bottom lip before pulling his hand back. 

"I, um, I kind of really want to kiss you but I don't want to get you sick," Tommy whispers.

Jon nods, licking his lips. "I want to kiss you too. Tell you what, let’s - when you're better, rain check?"

"I'm holding you to that," Tommy says, a drowsy smile on his face. "No take backs."

"C'mere" Jon pulls Tommy close and Tommy rolls over so he's the little spoon. Jon has his arm around Tommy's ribs, his hand flat against Tommy's chest. Jon's kisses the back of Tommy's neck. "Do you think this is safe?"

He can feel Tommy chuckle more than hear him. "Yeah." 

Jon continues lightly kissing Tommy's neck and shoulder, nosing the back of his head until he can feel Tommy's breathing slow and even out.

Jon's presses his palm against Tommy's chest and breathes out against the back of Tommy’s neck, falling asleep shortly after Tommy does.

++++

Adoration French Toast

Jon blinks awake. He's never slept so well in his life, he thinks as he reflexively hugs Tommy tighter. He suddenly has a flash of panic that everything that happened yesterday was actually a fever dream like Tommy said. That Tommy was just being sick and needy, and Jon was convenient. Shit, he's so stupid to think that Tommy could want anything more than that from him.

"Jon?" Tommy whispers, as if he could feel Jon tense up behind him. He doesn't wait for a reply before he's turning around in Jon's arms to face him, their noses nearly touching. "Morning."

Jon searches his face and gives him a small smile. "Morning." _Everything seems okay?_ "How are you feeling?" He wants to reach out but is second guessing himself in the morning light.

"Like I was never sick at all," Tommy admits. He lifts a hand and touches Jon's cheek softly. “I feel honestly great. I’ve never had a cold go away so quickly before.”

Jon closes his eyes and leans into Tommy's touch. He grins and opens his eyes. "So what you're saying is this was all an elaborate plan to get me into bed? I'm impressed! That's quite a commitment!" He giggles with his tongue in between his teeth.

"Maybe if I'd had any idea it would work I would have actually come up with that plan. Maybe instead you just take really good care of me."

Jon shrugs. "I didn't do anything special. I came over here and fell asleep on your couch."

Tommy let's his knuckles slip down Jon's jaw. "Maybe that was enough. Will you kiss me now?"

Jon's mouth goes dry, so he just nods. He's never wanted anything more. They are already so close, so it doesn't take much to lean his head forward and press his lips against Tommy's. The second they make contact, it's as if everything freezes and all of Jon's being is distilled into this one perfect moment. He shifts forward, grabbing at Tommy's waist and leaning forward so he can press Tommy back into the pillow. He licks into Tommy's mouth suddenly desperate. "Oh god, Tommy." He kisses along Tommy's cheek, gives his earlobe a little nibble. "I'm- you- you're perfect."

Jon can feel Tommy curl a hand against the back of Jon's neck as he pants into the kiss, gasping when Jon's mouth moves down to his ear. "Why haven't we done this before?" Tommy asks, sounding a little desperate himself. His fingers slip into Jon’s hair, scratching the back of his head. 

"I have no idea?" It's truly baffling. Jon rolls on top of Tommy - Jon feels like a dam has broken inside his brain and now he can't control how much he wants Tommy. It's as if his body knew all along but was just storing up all the wants and needs until his brain caught up. And now that his body and mind are on the same page, Tommy underneath him feels like a revelation.

Tommy slides his arms around Jon’s neck, down his back, opening his mouth into a kiss while his hips grind up against Jon's. Tommy grapples at the hem of Jon's shirt, at his back, and pushes it up.

Tommy has his hands on Jon’s skin and it’s more than he could have known he wanted. It’s everything all at once. Jesus how are they still wearing shirts? Jon grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head then grabs at Tommy's until he can yank it off. Being chest to chest is overwhelming. Jon's seen Tommy shirtless a bunch of times. Has even appreciated his body as objectively hot, but always at a remove. For whatever reason being in actual physical contact with said objectively hot body is almost more than Jon can handle. He kisses Tommy's pec, tongues at his nipple, listening to Tommy react underneath him.

"Tommy - what can I - what do you -" he doesn't know how to ask what he wants to ask. But of course, it's Tommy, and Tommy knows him, doesn’t need the words Jon is struggling with. Tommy rolls them so he's on top; he kisses Jon grabbing his face with both his hands. He shifts back and kisses a line down Jon's sternum, down Jon's belly, the trail of hair under his belly button. Tommy gets his fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs. "Is this okay? Can I keep going?"

"Yes, anything," Jon breathes.

"Fuck, okay." Tommy pulls Jon's underwear down, exposing his hard cock, and immediately licks up the length of it. Jon nearly shouts from over stimulation. Tommy swallows him down in one smooth motion and it's the sexiest thing Jon has ever experienced. He will not survive this morning of that he is certain. Tommy is grabbing his thighs tight, his mouth hot and soft and wet and unbearably perfect as he moves over Jon. Jon is gasping for air when he taps Tommy on the shoulder trying to warn him but Tommy just bats his hand away and sinks further down Jon’s dick until Jon can't hold off any longer and comes down Tommy's throat. Tommy sucks him through it until it becomes too much and Jon has to pull him back up over him.

Tommy crawls up Jon, straddling his hips. "Fuck Jon that was so hot, you look amazing." Tommy is babbling praise at Jon, whose mind is blank and body boneless underneath him. Tommy starts stroking himself as he keeps talking "You are so good to me, you always are, you're amazing, your body is so fucking hot, I can't believe we've never done this before." He is moving faster over himself, thumbing the slit, smearing the precome over himself. Jon can hardly believe what he is seeing and can only let it happen. He places his hands on Tommy's thighs for more contact and lets Tommy's words wash over him in a sea of emotions. "You are so beautiful, you have no idea what you do to me, you take care of me, you're so good -" and with that Tommy gasps and Jon watches his eyes squeeze shut as he spills over his hand and drips onto Jon's stomach. Tommy collapses forward onto Jon who simply folds him into his arms, tracing lazy patterns into Tommy's back.

They lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, before they convince themselves to get up and take a shower because they're sweaty and sticky and gross. Tommy gives Jon a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and Jon feels some kind of way about wearing Tommy’s clothes _every_ Saturday, and maybe even sometimes in the office. 

Jon starts puttering around the kitchen, pulling out pans and bowls and milk and eggs and the bread he brought over yesterday. 

"What are you doing?" Tommy sounds surprised as he surveys the collection of items on the counter. “I had all this stuff?”

"I'm making you French toast for breakfast," Jon replies, because it should be obvious.

"Oh, nice use of the magic bread! I'll, uh, make coffee since that's what I know how to do." Tommy grins at him which is reward enough.

"It's not magic bread, it's just bread," Jon mutters as he drops a pat of butter into the warm pan.

"Fine. Bread of Destiny, then," Tommy amends. Jon gives him a flat look. "Enchanted Bread? Bread that got sorted into Hufflepuff? Bread that graduated from Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children?" and Jon can no longer keep a straight face as he plops the not-magic-not-enchanted-not-a-wizard-not-gifted slice of bread into the sizzling pan.

They sit at the breakfast bar and Jon watches fondly as Tommy takes a bite of the egg-battered cinnamon bread dripping in syrup. Tommy moans performatively. “This is the best thing I have ever tasted in the history of breakfast. Seriously, babe, this is so good." 

Jon blinks at him - Tommy seems unaware of what he just said, but Jon wouldn't ever want him to take it back.

Tommy takes another bite and smiles at Jon with affection and warmth radiating off of him.

Jon reaches out and thumbs a drop of syrup off Tommy's lip. "Why are you smiling?"

"I'm just- I lo-" Tommy takes a deep breath and looks at Jon. "I'm just so incredibly happy right now."

“Me too, Tommy, Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & kudos are always very much appreciated.
> 
> [Art exhibit date inspiration](https://www.instagram.com/p/88Z68SwuNc/?igshid=ga7o4j6kckxy)


End file.
